Need You More Than You Know
by ishippeditovernight
Summary: (destiel) Dean loses Cas, over and over again, at various points in their lives. But does he really? / Takes place toward the end of season 10; MoC is still in play, Cas has his grace back, but can't sense Dean for the purposes of the story.
1. Chapter 1

**Need You More Than You Know**

 **Story Notes:**

Due to the nature of the fic, there is minor violence and twice there is character death, but it's also ...not _really_ character death if you get what I mean (I hope this becomes clear why!). So TW if death/etc bothers you, but... I swear on my stack of DVDs there _will_ be a darn happy ending!

This story dances all over the timeline, but I'll mark when each chapter is taking place. However, the main, _framed_ storyline takes place toward the end of season 10. Dean still has the Mark.

 **Chapter Note:**

Takes place mid-season 4.

He'd only known Cas for a couple of months at this point, so Dean wasn't quite sure what was possessing him—well, nothing supernatural, anyway, as the anti-possession tattoo was still in one piece—but clearly, something else was in control of his impulses here.

Like stupidity, maybe. Or desperation? World was gonna end if they couldn't stop the seals breaking, anyway…

Whatever the reason, he had this feeling that he had to act. Something gave him this strange, ants-crawling-under-his-flesh urgency.

"Cas?" he blurted out as Castiel was about to leave, about to wing off to Heaven or where-the-fuck-ever-else.

A pause. Cas turned back questioningly, those eyebrows lowered in slow uncertainty. Dean's heart thought it was inside a seventh grader's and skipped a beat. "Yes?"

Dean opened and shut his mouth, struggling to breathe evenly. "Um. Could you—Do you ever thin—" He pressed his lips together, closed his eyes, and just dived in. "Could we ever, you know, I mean, umm, you and me—" Here his words failed. Here his nerves gave out again.

The silence was too much. Dean cracked one eye open again, too anxious to open both but needing to see.

Cas was looking at him warily, waiting for the rest of Dean's sentence, but already his expression had softened and an apology was scattered over his features. "I'm so sorry, Dean," he said quietly. "Angels and humans can't… be together. In that way. It isn't allowed."

He was gone in a fluttery sound of wings before Dean could ask if he felt the same.

Dean wasn't sure if he was glad about that missed part of the conversation or not.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Note:**

TW for major character death. (…sort of…)

Takes place either season 9 or season 10; MoC timeline.

Dean woke up with a feeling of dread draped over him like a lead blanket. Everything hurt. There were major and minor aches in his chest and arms, exactly as if he'd gotten in a fight and was going to be black and blue for a week now. His nose felt broken; his mouth was dry from breathing through it instead for however long he'd been lying here.

He closed his eyes again, head lolling to the side, before he registered something alarming. One of the harsher pains was on his chest, above his heart, as i— Dean jerked his head up and yanked the top of his shirt down to check.

The tattoo had been burned off. And there was so, so much blood in the basement he was in… Entirely too much to have come from him.

 _No. No, what did you do?_ Dean wasn't sure if "you" referred to himself or to whatever—whoever—had possessed him. At least it wasn't the Mark. At least it hadn't been 100% _his own_ actions. But whatever went down… it was something bad.

He had to know. "Cas!" he yelled out, staring up at the ceiling. "Cas, it's me. Bring Sam. Please. I need you guys."

While he waited, he sat up slowly, taking stock of the damage. It felt like a rib or two was broken, and now that he was in motion, he realized his left shoulder was also broken, and his ankle was dislocated. Whoever the demon within him had killed, it hadn't been a one-sided fight. They'd fought him—it—off hard.

"Cas! Please." But Cas still wasn't answering. Dean looked around the darkened room and realized the blood was leading somewhere, into an alcove. Judging by the cans of peas and corn and tomato soup rolling over the floor, it had previously been used for a stockpile.

Dean braced his weight on a support beam, then a table as he made his way closer. A black shoe stuck out from the alcove, and Dean's eyes widened in shock as he caught sight of a flash of tan farther in. _No. No!_

His legs gave out completely, and he crawled the rest of the way into the alcove, heedless of the pain in his injured ankle and the broken shoulder caught on the side of the shelving unit. "No, Cas, please, no," Dean babbled desperately, reaching his side and ripping the angel blade out of his stomach. "Please, buddy, you're okay, you're fine, I'm sorry…"

Vaguely Dean heard thundering footsteps racing into the house overhead, and a distant _"Dean?"_

"Down here!" he shouted back, and fell over onto Cas's chest, clutching the lapels of the ever-present trenchcoat. He determinedly ignored the two blackened, burned shadows of wings stretched out from either side of Cas's motionless form. Dean's shoulders shook with sobs, with broken, hopeless cries.

What little light he had was suddenly completely blocked. "Oh, Dean…" Sam said from the doorway, looking devastated.

Dean pushed himself up halfway. "It wasn't… me," he tried to say, but had a feeling the words didn't have enough volume to carry. It wasn't him. It was, but it wasn't.

It didn't matter, did it? Either way, Cas was… gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Note:**

The verb tense changes whenever I switch back to Sam or Cas's POVs. I did that to try and separate Dean's side of things more thoroughly. Please let me know if I screwed up in either voice cause I had a hard time keeping it all straight while writing! :P

(reminder: this is the main, framed storyline, and it takes place toward the tail end of season 10)

Sam knows he's being ridiculous here. Really, Dean is pretty far from helpless. And lately, he's been doing well with subduing the control of the Mark. He might be overreacting here.

Still, it's been a while since he left… Sam drums his fingertips restlessly on the tabletop, sipping his beer and trying not to worry.

And failing.

After a while, Cas shows up. "Hello, Sam," he says with his typical awkward smile, taking a seat at the table next to him. "How are you?"

Sam tried to smile. "Hey, Cas. I'm… All right, I guess," he shrugs, fiddling with the beer.

"Sam." Cas raises one eyebrow, seeing right through him. He stops and glances around the room. "Where's Dean?"

Screw it. Sam reaches for the laptop across from him and re-opens the web browser Dean had used. "He said he was going on a quick hunt, and he'd be stopping for burgers and stuff on the way back," Sam says uncertainly, clicking through his computer to find the recent history. "Uhh… here. Some small town. Said it was a routine ghost hunt, but… I don't know, I know it's stupid, but I kind of have this feeling…"

Cas leans in to look at the screen. "Okay. How long has he been gone?"

"About, um, seven hours," Sam answers after checking his watch. "I mean, it only takes about two and a half hours round trip, but I gave it a little more time in case things were complicated, but even then…" Cas is watching him as if Sam is being an overly concerned parent, so he rushes on. "It's just—I—I'm worried, Cas. You wanna, I don't know, go make sure he's all right?"

 _That he hasn't gone back to killing,_ he doesn't go on. Frankly, that's a more likely prospect than Dean being injured right now, and one that fuels Sam's desperation to get the Mark off his brother's arm.

"Yes, that's fine," Cas nods, the distress in his eyes now echoing Sam's.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Note:**

Wait, watch your step, you're gonna- *cringe* ...fall into the Fanfiction Gap. *holds out hand* Want some help?

Takes place near the end of 9x06.

TW for alcohol, just in case.

Dean knew he was drunk when he started repeating things. And ohhh boy was he repeating things right now.

"I can't drink, Dean," Cas had said the first time Dean had offered. "But it'll make you feel better, and it's _good_ ," Dean swore, holding the bottle out. "Dean, I work in the morning, opening shift," Cas replied.

"Jus' _tryyyy_ it," Dean begged a while later. Cas laughed, flipping through the channels to find a decent movie that hadn't started yet.

"I don' wanna be the on'y loser here drinking by himself," Dean pleaded later on. "Sorry, but unless you're planning on inviting anybody else over…" Cas teased, sipping at his own soda.

The fourth time, he'd gotten a bit more aggressive and sat down right next to Cas, leaning against the headboard and slinging an arm around him. "Try it," he said again, holding another bottle over. Cas shook his head and gently pushed it back. "It's 1 in the morning and I should probably get to sleep soon," he countered. "Just because _you're_ drunk…"

"I'm not drunk," Dean protested. He set the bottle on the stand between the beds and stared at the movie they were watching.

Cas rolled his eyes. "You are, Dean."

"I'm not drunk unless I get huggy," Dean insisted. He realized where his arm was and laughed. "Oh. Wait." He squeezed Cas's shoulders. "Sorry," he added afterward, thinking maybe he shouldn't be so clingy.

"It's okay, Dean," Cas said, yawning. "But really, I _do_ have work tomorrow, and—"

"We shoul' date," Dean cut him off as he pulled his arm away self-consciously. He wasn't sure how the words had come out. But whatever, fuck it. "No. I mean it. We should go ou'. Go on gross happy dates all th' time an' make Sam tease us an' have lotsa loud sex jus' to piss him offfff."

"Dean…"

Oh. _Shit._ Dean shifted away from Cas slightly, hearing the uncertainty in his tone. "I'm sorr'," he said. "That was t' mush… T' mush _y_ ," he added, almost wanting to giggle at the mix-up.

Cas lifted the corner of his mouth. "I'm not offended, Dean," he said. "I'm not interested in dating right now. Human, angel, whatever I am… I like your company, and maybe someday, but I feel I should get my life together first. I'm sorry."

"Sure, sure," Dean nodded, the motion a bobby jerk of his head more than a graceful nod. "Okay." He leaned over to the bottle he'd left on the table. "Okay."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Note:**

Takes place somewhere after 8x20 ("Pac Man Fever").

It had been a while since Cas had zipped his feathery ass down to check in with him and Sam, and it had been annoying him more the longer it went on. He didn't want to be all _needy_ and keep calling to him, but… And he didn't want to bring it up with Sam, who definitely had more things to worry about at the moment, but it was impossible to resist after a while.

Finally, he absolutely couldn't take it any longer. "You hear from Cas lately?" he asked Sam one night in the bunker.

Sam was on his laptop, searching for cases. Not that Dean was about to let him go off on any. But the damn kid couldn't sit still and rest, even with the trials chipping away at his health. So Dean had resigned himself to letting Sam research, as long as he made sure to get some sleep and eat in the process. "Who?" he asked, glancing up.

" _Cas_ ," Dean repeated, biting the inside of his lip.

"…Are you talking about _Cassie_?" Sam frowned. "No, I—No. Why would I? It's been so l—"

"No, not Cassie." Dean shook his head. "Cas. _Castiel_? Short guy, kinda weird—" – _kinda sexy_ , his oh-so-helpful brain fills in, "—trenchcoat like he thinks he's Constantine?" When Sam looked even more confused, Dean's stomach suddenly felt heavy. "Guy who raised me from Hell?"

"You were brought back by _Anna_ , Dean, and we haven't seen or heard from her in years." Sam narrowed his eyes. "You feeling all right?"

Dean glared. "Castiel. You never heard of…" At Sam's concerned frown, Dean let the rest of his sentence trail off. _Fuck._

He couldn't have _imagined_ him and all those years, could he? Could his brain really have come up with that shade of blue in Cas's eyes all on its own?

Shit. Sam was waiting on a response. "A-Anna?" Dean managed, the name struggling out through a dry mouth.

Sam nodded, pushing his computer to the side a little. "What's going on?" He coughed and reached for his glass of water, eyes still on Dean.

And Sam's health was failing, but it was physical at this point – so far, anyway – all coughing up blood and sleep problems and weakness and dizziness. It wasn't mental. He was find in that regard. Unless his memory had been tampered with from outside?

Or unless _Dean_ was going crazy here?

No. No, Cas _did_ exist. He did. He had to. Dean was good at making things up when he needed to, but there was no way he could have _made up_ five totally detailed years of someone who didn't exist.

 _Here_ , anyway.

Something was going on. Dean had a flicker of memory, a recollection of _Crowley_ opening Purgatory and releasing the Leviathan. But it was fuzzy, like peering through a dirty window when you'd looked through the cleaned glass before and known what it was supposed to be.

Standing in Stull Cemetery, where… Bobby? had thrown a Molotov Cocktail at Michael-Adam, not Cas. Again, the edges blurred, a sight unfocused when you knew otherwise clear vision.

Dean lifted his head, meeting Sam's gaze. "I'm not sure," he said slowly. Whatever had happened, or hadn't, or existed or didn't, the tightness in Dean's chest was certainly real.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes:** Takes place sometime in season 4.

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"…All right. I'll call Cas," Dean shrugged. "See you in a bit, Sammy." If they could get rid of this thing with no casualties, it would be one more seal unbroken. But how was the tricky part…

He closed his phone and looked around. Nobody was within view on the street he was walking down, so he opened his mouth. "Cas? Cas!" There was no answer after a few seconds, so he figured he'd give it the full name just in case. Couldn't hurt, anyway. "Castiel! Come on, already!"

Still no answer for another minute. Finally, after calling him one last time, and the third time Dean looked around and turned back, there was a blonde woman standing there. "Yes?"

Dean blinked, taken aback. "What th—"

"You called me?"

"…C- _Cas_?" Dean stammered. "What's with the vessel? Where's Jimmy?"

"I don't know what you mean," the woman—Cas?—said. "I don't know who that is. Or who you are. Or how you know my name. But you sounded annoyingly insistent, so I got curious."

Dean's mouth fell open. "Y-you don't remember me? What—"

"I have not been on earth in a couple thousand years," chick-Cas sighed. The irritation and weariness read through as easily in the new vessel as they did in Jimmy's. "Well, here I am. What did you want?"

Somehow _"we needed a little help with a cursed object and how to get rid of it without killing or cursing everyone in a five mile radius"_ didn't seem like something he could say anymore, when he'd inadvertently summoned someone who didn't know him, was annoyed by him, and clearly didn't want to be on this plane of existence.

And neither did he. Because now Dean was sure that he wasn't in his own world anymore. Question is, who was behind it? Gabriel? Another archangel? A djinn? Serious brain damage from an injury on a hunt? God? The Mark fucking his mind over more than he'd realized? A spell?

None of the above? Something else entirely?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes:** Sam & Cas POV (remember, last 1/4 or so of season 10).

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The ghost Dean had been after is gone. There's no sign of anything supernatural in the bright maroon house on the top of a T-intersection, aside from the damage the thing has inflicted both before and while Dean was taking it down.

Aside from the house itself, they don't know where to begin looking.

"Can you tell where he is?" Sam asks Castiel, glancing over with a frown as they drive.

"No," Castiel is forced to admit. "I… I have some of my power back, but I don't have everything. Some things are diminished. Like flying. Normally I _can_ sense him, but… I can't right now. I seem to be blocked." He knows of one reason why that would be, but there are countless others (he hopes).

Sam lapses into silence. Castiel hopes the younger Winchester isn't thinking the same thing he is.

The small town connects to a slightly bigger city farther out, and they have decided on the way here to retrace Dean's steps outward. Judging from the condition of the house, Dean made it out here okay without anything happening to him, so whatever _did_ happen, it occurred on the way back.

There are a number of small convenience stores, but just two non-fast food diner type of restaurants. They stop in each store with a photo of Dean, but nobody has seen him.

"Now, he probably would have waited to get the food till he was closer to Lebannon," Sam suggests. "Less time for it to cool down."

"We should stop anyway," Castiel says quietly, feeling something small twist inside his chest the longer they search without finding anything. "He could have decided to eat here and get something for you in town."

Sam nods. "Right, good one."

But nothing comes from either restaurant, aside from a waitress at the second one blatantly hitting on Castiel, who doesn't pay her any attention and keeps interrogating the manager. Nobody has seen any sign of Dean, however, and Sam's getting so insistent and pleading that people are starting to look.

On the way out, Castiel spins his keys on one finger nervously. "What if he's not the only one?" he begins softly.

"What do you mean?"

They get in the car. Castiel waits before starting the ignition. "What if… Do you think there could be two cases in the same place?"

Sam frowns over at him. "Like, two different supernatural things here? One ghost, one something else?"

Castiel nods. "It is possible, isn't it?"

"I guess," Sam shrugs. "I mean, it's worth a try. We'll… I don't know, we should see if anybody else has gone missing around here."

They stop at the nearest restaurant with free wi-fi, and Sam brings his computer in to search online for disappearances.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes:** TW: major character death (sort of), suicide (sort of)

Takes place in season 9, pre-Kevin's death.

This one is sad. Sorry, guys. :(

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Dean was groggy and happy. Happy – unbelievably enough. Maybe it was the winning streak they'd been on lately, or maybe it was Sam seeming to be okay these days even with Gadreel being gone, or maybe it was the fact that he had actually gotten a full eight hours' sleep ( _eight!_ ) the last four nights.

Or maybe, he considered, it was something to do with the pair of arms wound around him, their owner probably waiting patiently for him to wake up fully.

He leaned back, yawning and settling himself more comfortably against Cas. There was no real need to get up yet, so…

"Dean, wake up," Cas said right then, with annoyingly spot-on timing.

Dean shifted his weight, turning slowly, with sleep-inhibited movements. "Mmm. Yeah. I'm 'wake," he mumbled, pushing Cas back against the mattress so he could lie on top of him, using the guy like a pillow. He still didn't open his eyes.

"Morning," Cas told him softly, the rumble of his voice soothing as Dean rested on Cas's chest. Dean nodded tiredly, more than awake enough to talk but not really wanting to. "Wake up, Dean," Cas insisted.

Dean shook his head in the most miniscule motion possible. "Shuddup."

"We have to wake up. Gotta get up soon," Cas said, brushing his hands up and down Dean's back.

"Not yet…" Dean all but whined.

"You need to wake up," Cas said again.

What the hell? He was already awake, obviously. Dean lifted his head enough to look up at Cas, but he wasn't prepared for what he saw.

Cas was sorrowful, apologetic, almost the way he had immediately after breaking free of Naomi's mind control. And helpless, as if something was going to happen that he had no power to stop. "Please, Dean," he said, his voice softened by regret.

Dean pushed himself up on his elbows, taking a quick look around the room. This had felt like the morning after a one-night stand, a miraculous mistake he definitely wanted to repeat, but maybe it was something more.

There were photos on the wall. An eight by ten of his parents, taken a lot more recently than 1983, judging by how much older and beautiful his mother appeared. A wedding photo of _Jessica_ and Sam, such joy in his brother's eyes that Dean's breath caught painfully. A group shot of Jo, Ellen, Bobby – and Kevin and Charlie. And a candid of Cas in the Bunker, on his knee in front of Dean, holding out a small box, the photo blurry as if whoever had taken the picture was too excited to hold still. Jo in the background with wide eyes, and Kevin with one hand over his mouth in shock and excitement. And another wedding photo, this one of him and Cas…

Dean glanced down at his left hand, and yes, there was a simple gold band on one finger. A match for the one on Cas's finger.

He met Cas's eyes and swallowed hard. "This… This isn't real, is it?"

Cas looked devastated, mournful. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "You need to wake up. To go home."

Dean seemed to remember the words being said a lot more than they already have been. "How…" He stopped, licking his lips, trying to moisten a grief-desiccated mouth. "How long have I been in here?"

"Here? Weeks. Out there? It's been days, Dean." Cas pulled him closer up, pressing a kiss to Dean's forehead. "You're dying. You need to wake up. I've been trying to tell you…"

How did he not know this wasn't real?

Had he _ever_ been allowed to be happy?

Dean rests his head on Cas's chest again, knowing what he had to do and not wanting to move. "Goddamnit," he groaned. Every ounce of the joy he'd felt a few minutes earlier was gone, bled away.

"Come find me in the real world," Cas said quietly. "We can really have this."

Dean sighed. "You can't guarantee that." He rolled off of Cas and glared up at the ceiling in misery.

The bed shifted as Cas got up. He returned a moment later with a gun from Dean's display on the wall. "This will probably be the fastest," he murmured, lying back down next to Dean and pressing it into his hand.

"I hate this," Dean said, gazing down at the metal in his hand. "Why can't I just… Just stay here?"

Cas kissed him. "Because this isn't real, Dean." He held onto the side of Dean's face and stared at him intently. "But we need you in the real world. You still have work to do."

Slowly, Dean nodded. "Look away," he begged. Cas kissed him once more, and then turned away.

The shot was loud, but blessedly did the job on its own.

Dean woke up in an abandoned apartment building, tied to a chair. Sam was there, crouched over him, Cas a short distance away checking on a small form in another chair. "—ke up, Dean," Sam was saying desperately.

"I'm awake," Dean finally muttered, glancing around the filthy apartment. A body lied in the corner, its eyes blown out. Cas's handiwork.

Sam checked on Cas, who shook his head remorsefully before turning his attention to Dean. "Are you all right?" Cas asked in concern as Sam helped Dean to his feet.

"Sure, I'm great," he nearly slurred as they made their way to the car. "Anyone else in there?"

Sam looked defeated. "No. Only the kid. And we didn't get there in time for him." Dean slid into the front passenger side.

The drive home passed in near silence. Dean caught Cas's eye a couple of times in the rearview mirror, still half in the dream world and remembering the feel of Cas's skin beneath him and the painfully happy pictures on the walls.

Sam glanced over. "Dean, if you need to tal—"

"No," Dean said sullenly, and stared out the window into the black night.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes:** Takes place during that little moment in 9x09 when Cas plays FBI agent.

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"One of your guys is here already," the cop nodded. Dean and Sam frowned at each other in minor confusion and walked into the roadhouse.

There was only one other FBI agent, and he was talking to a cop. Cas. Of _course_ it was him. Dean mentally rolled his eyes as they walked up. Cas excused himself and looked at them expectantly as the police officer walked away.

"Agent," Sam greeted him cheerfully.

Cas nodded, a little too eager to be in on things. "Agent."

Dean was not so impressed. "Cas, what the hell are you doing?"

"Excuse me?" Cas frowned.

"What are you _doing_ here?"

Cas raised an eyebrow. "My _job_. What are you talking about?"

"Okay, we're—" Dean glanced over to Sam for help, but Sam—Sam had his professional appearance on, all cracks in the façade sealed away like they _didn't_ know this "stranger" with too-blue eyes and a nearly copyrightable squint. Not an ounce of recognition was on his brother's face. "Uh—Agent?"

Sam looked over. "Yeah?"

Dean already had a feeling, but he had to ask anyway. "Don't we know him? Cas?"

"…My name is Agent Novak. Uh, Jimmy," Cas – _not_ Cas? – said, watching Dean strangely. "I've never seen either of you before."

"You all right?" Sam asked Dean, a bit of worry now evident in his gaze.

"Yeah. Yeah," Dean nodded, running a hand over the back of his neck and trying to sound casual. "Uh—You look like someone I know. Sorry about that."

C—Jimmy still seemed confused, but let the subject die. "No problem," he shrugged, and began to discuss the case with them.

Dean could barely concentrate. All he could think about was how although he was clueing in each time now, he was nevertheless fooled for a while.

He remembered now, waking up in bed with Cas, fucking _married_ to the guy, and realizing that it had been a manifestation of his own subconscious.

But he'd woken up from that. He'd woken up all mopey and miserable like a goddamn teenager, and then…

Dean frowned, missing every word of the conversation between Sam and Jimmy. What had happened? He was… He was suddenly _here_. Where was here?

What kind of spell _was_ this? And how the hell was he going to break out of it when he wasn't even sure what it was yet?


	10. Chapter 10

Sam and Cas do research to find leads on Dean's disappearance.

 **Notes:** Again, Sam and Cas scenes = taking place fairly recently in s10 (pre MoC removal).

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There's only one fairly recent disappearance. A girl named Destiny Sharonn was reported missing by her boyfriend. But it's more than what they had to go on before.

They also discover a list of older disappearances, the most recent before Destiny being ten months before and stretching back three years. The trail is too cold for the older ones to be alive, but Destiny's just been gone a week. There's hope left for her.

While on his computer, Sam tracks down a list of abandoned buildings in the area. There aren't any convenient (and frequently used) empty warehouses or factories or stores, but there are a large number of vacant houses that have been sitting for five or more years. And it's a small enough town that they can easily check them all in one night.

"All right, so we'll try the one on Elm first," Sam says, shutting his computer and picking up the hastily-scribbled list of addresses. "It's the closest."

"Should we split up?" Castiel asks, wishing he still had the ability to teleport anywhere on his own without having to rely on human inventions for transportation. "It would cut down our searching time."

Sam shakes his head, looping the strap of the carrying case around his shoulder. "Not necessarily. It'd probably even out the same—the time spent searching a house one on one versus two at a time." He pushes the door open and holds it for Castiel. "Better stick together. In case it's…"

"Something better dealt with by two people," Castiel nods.

On the way to House #1, they discuss possibilities. Demon? Rougarou? Good old fashioned ghost? Just about anything is possible, but luckily, they're prepared. Sam made sure they stocked the trunk up before they left, so whatever has Dean—even if it is something Castiel isn't able to smite—they'll take it down.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes:** TW for in-canon character death (Cas's). This is where I got lazy. :/

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This day—nightmare—whatever it was… This was like a Greatest Hits album. A TV clip show or something.

xxxx

" _Where's Cas?"_

" _He's dead…. He like, exploded."_

"… _Cas, you stupid bastard."_

" _Stupid? He was trying to help us."_

" _Yeah, exactly…"_

 _xxxx_

" _Hey. Assbutt!"_

…" _Castiel. Did you just Molotov my brother with holy fire?"_

" _Uh… No."_

" _No one… dicks with Michael but me." A snapped finger, a grisly explosion._

 _xxxx_

" _Is he breathing?"_

" _No."_

" _Maybe angels don't need to breathe."_

" _He's gone, Dean."_

" _Damn it. Cas, you child… Why didn't you listen to me?"_

 _xxxx_

" _You need to run now! I—I can't hold them back! Leviathan! I can't fight them. Run!—"_

"— _Too late! Cas is—he's gone. He's dead. We run the show now."_

 _xxxx_

 _A too-late arrival, a glint of light off a silver knife, an unstoppable trajectory._

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The worst part about this particular series of memories was the fact that they played three times in a row before Dean lost track in his haze of grief. All he knew was anguish, regret, and terror that he'd have to keep watching Cas die in the real world.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes:** TW for murder (sort of?). 8x17 alteration (again, sort of?).

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…He'd definitely been _here_ before.

Dean wondered vaguely if anything he said could differ from what he'd already said the first time around. But though he knew he was living a rerun of a still-painful memory, somehow the same words were coming out. "Cas… This isn't you… This _isn't you._ "

His reward was Cas hitting him again, and then again and again. Dean lost track after a while. "Cas," he begged, breathing shallowly. "Cas…" He reached forward for him desperately. "I know you're in there. I know you can hear me. _Cas_ …" His voice broke. "It's _me_..."

Cas looked blankly down at him, like Dean was merely an ant and Cas was trying to decide whether killing him would be worth cleaning up the mess. As if there was nothing between then.

As if they hadn't spent a year together in Purgatory, watching the other sleep and making sure each other was safe in their slumber. As if during the times Benny kept watch, they hadn't woken up more than once curled around each other before awkwardly slipping away.

As if they hadn't spent years slowly growing closer and closer, both of them were too chickenshit to cross that last bit of distance.

"We're family," Dean implored, hoping Cas would think of Sam too, what losing Dean would do to his brother.

"We need you," he pleaded, giving up every ounce of fight. He wasn't really scared for his own life. He was scared for Cas, and what his death would do to Cas when he finally snapped out of whatever the fuck this was.

"I need you," he begged finally, laying his last card on the table. He couldn't say the other word. But if he could, he would have. He would have said it over and over for the rest of his life if he were physically capable, if that would break Cas out of this.

Cas's hand shook slightly. Dean almost breathed a sigh of relief, real life memories filling in the end of the scene. This was the moment the knife would clatter to the ground. It was over.

And then Cas's hand tightened back on the blade, and he pulled it back higher, hesitating for a moment. Dean's eyes widened. "No, Cas, please, don'—"

He never finished the word. But he never felt the pain, either. Somehow, though, the blade was in his chest and Cas was leaning over him, watching the life slowly drain away from Dean.


	13. Chapter 13

notes: remember, Sam and Cas POV = toward the end of the 10th season, pre Mark removal

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The first four houses are a bust. Nobody is in either of them – aside from a squatter in the second one who freaks out when they break in, thinking they're here to bust him. They apologize profusely and leave after determining that he's been there alone for the last month.

The fifth one, Castiel sits sharply in his seat as soon as they turn onto the road. The Impala is parked a few houses down from the house they need to search. This is it. This is where something happened.

The door is unlocked. Not a good sign. "Dean!" Sam yells out as they walk in. All the lights are out, and they peer around the kitchen and the living room visible off to the left. Castiel has a feeling, but he flips the light switch anyway; the electricity is not on.

A muffled noise comes from upstairs.

They split off to search the two-and-a-half story house. Sam runs straight upstairs, and Castiel takes the darkened rooms of the first floor.

He doesn't find anything. "Dean? Destiny?" he calls out, angel blade at the ready. "Anybody?"

Distantly, he hears a clatter. It's coming from below, and a sudden surge of pain washes through Castiel. Not his own – though it is related. It's a longing, a fierce streak of helplessness and anguish so violent he almost staggers.

Dean _must_ be in this house. Whatever was blocking him from Castiel, it's inactive now that Castiel is within the boundaries of the house.

He flings open doors until he finds a set of stairs leading down, and throws himself down them so fast that he trips and slams into the ground. He picks himself up and looks around at the small basement, his eyes frustratingly not adjusted yet.

And then he sees a form tied in the corner, standing with his arms suspended.


	14. Chapter 14

Cas started dying, again. First Dean was forced to watch Raphael explode him in agonizing slow motion, over and over while Dean stood there helplessly, frozen and unable to so much as scream a warning. After the first few times, Raphael started appearing in vessel form, his power and his devastation no less devastating but now able to turn to Dean and smile before he snapped his fingers.

He and Sam crouched in a warehouse amid the wreckage, helping Jimmy up, asking what had happened. Jimmy tentatively, shakily told them about Cas—about Cas being ripped out even though Jimmy hadn't rejected him, about the blast of light falling to a million splintered pieces that faded to nothing visible on this plane of existence anymore. He was dead, Jimmy told them apologetically, as if he'd had any control over what happened. They killed him, Jimmy explained. No reprogramming this time, in this universe. No hope.

Sam restrained him at the Bunker, telling him what happened to Cas after the last of his pilfered grace had ebbed away. He didn't want to, but Dean taunted him after one too many blood injections, the influence of human blood bringing back anger and frustration that he channeled outward, striking out unfairly but uncontrollably. He told Sam he was too weak to cure him, that he couldn't do this without help, without Cas. And Sam blurted out that it wouldn't be happening because Cas had _died_ , had succumbed to a fever frying his brain while the grace faded. Dean raged so hard after that that he'd been able to break free of the restraints and the sting of the devil's trap, chasing Sam through the Bunker before his brother thought fast and managed to catch him in a simpler, physical trap.

Dean stood in a darkened basement, unable to affect reality. Unable to break Cas from his restraints or so much as wipe the blood from his face. And when Malachi decided to come down himself rather than send Theo, telling Cas not to ask for the mercy that wasn't there, Cas staunchly refused, simply requesting a quick death. In the end, Dean was just as unable to look away as he was to prevent Malachi from delivering the killing blow.

The worst was having to watch Metatron steal Cas's grace. Because this had happened so similarly in the real world as in this world. Dean grabbed for the instrument of torture still in the back of Naomi's skull, but his hands couldn't close on it and there was nothing he could do. Cas writhed in the restraints, Metatron's slick smug grin and infuriatingly soothing words about a new life for Cas… And here, that wasn't enough, apparently. Metatron giggled, sounding exactly as psycho on the outside as he was on the inside. "I'm sorry, Castiel," he snickered. "I never meant to let you leave here. I lied. We all tell stories. Some are more true than others. I did need your grace, though. Thank you." And his sickening smile never faltered as he picked up the blade again and shoved it into Cas's chest. He wasn't fazed even when Dean wrapped agonizingly ineffective hands around his throat or when Dean tried to break his neck. He calmly pulled the blade out, cleaned it with one slight movement of his hand, and walked away.

Dean would have stabbed himself if he could have picked anything up.


	15. Chapter 15

"Dean!" Castiel cries out, running over. "Dean. It's us. Wake up."

Dean's eyes are dead. He's listing forward, his head out and his eyes heavy-lidded. "You're not real," he mutters bitterly, and shuts his eyes, turning his face away.

It _must_ be a djinn, then.

Castiel slashes at the ropes holding Dean's arms up. Dean almost immediately collapses, and Castiel banishes the blade barely in time to catch his friend as he slides to the ground. They end up half-sitting, half-leaning against the cinder block wall, and Castiel holds two fingers to Dean's forehead to heal all of his injuries. The blood, the cuts, the bruises, everything physically wrong with Dean disappears, but he's still a wreck.

Castiel puts his hands on Dean's shoulders. "Dean. Dean, I'm here, I'm real," he insists. "Whatever you were dreaming, it wasn't real. Wake up."

"Gon… Jus' gonna lose you 'gain," Dean slurs, not looking at him. "Jus' a question _how_."

Oh, _hell_ , what was he forced to live?

Somewhere above them, there's a commotion, a series of vicious thuds. Sam is killing the thing, thankfully.

"Dean, I _promise_ , you won't lose me," Castiel swears, and moves his hands to hold onto the sides of Dean's face. " _Dean!_ "

One last final _slam_ , and then silence.

Heavy lids slowly slot upward. And Castiel swallows nervously, because the hollowness within Dean's eyes… He's seen stars collapse in on themselves and become black holes, and what he's seeing right now in Dean Winchester's gaze looks a lot like the death of stars.

How long has he been stuck in that world? In djinn time?

"So?"

Castiel frowns. "So, what?"

Dean smiles bitterly. "So, say you don't remember me… Or end up dyin' a buncha times or say tha' _this_ is the dream and I'm tied up s'where… Or try t' kill me—"

"Oh, Dean," Castiel cuts him off, watching the pain play over his eyes. He almost faints with the echo of it, the call and respond of Dean's frustration and longing and agony. "Dean. I'm here. This is real. I'm real. And Sam's upstairs freeing Destiny."

"No, you're not," Dean mumbles. "Foo' me once… shame—shame on… shame o' me," he adds deliriously, his eyes unfocusing again and his head falling to the side.

"I am, I swear." Castiel tightens his grip slightly on Dean's face. "Look at me." Dean manages to gather enough strength to lift his head back, focusing his gaze back on Castiel for a moment. "That's it, Dean, that's it. I'm here. Sam's here. You're coming home, we've got you. You're gonna be fine."

There's a softer noise upstairs, coming somewhere above the first floor. A door being kicked in, and then voices. Sam must have found Destiny.

Dean rolls his eyes. "Still don' b'lieve you…"

Castiel shuts him up, shuts up any more denials and disbeliefs by pulling Dean's face that last inch closer to his own. Their lips press together, frantic but gentle, Dean's stubble rough against the skin around Castiel's mouth. He pulls away from Dean a fraction of an inch, barely enough to whisper again. "I'm here. I'm here." He presses the words back onto Dean's mouth, kissing them into his lips over and over, desperate for them to take. Dean starts kissing back after the third time Castiel has repeated that he's there and that he's real. Dean starts coming alive after that, reaching up to lock his hands around the back of Castiel's neck.

And then they hear loud footsteps immediately above them and break off, staring at each other while they catch their breath. "Sam," Castiel says.

"And Destiny," Dean nods. "You should go heal her too."

" _Dean! Cas?"_

"We're down here!" Castiel calls out. "Basement!" He presses one last kiss into the corner of Dean's lips. "To be continued?"

"Better be," Dean says tiredly, turning his face to catch Castiel's mouth on his own one last time. They part just as the door swings open and the sounds of heavy boots make their way downstairs.


	16. Chapter 16

Destiny curled up when she got into the car, scooting as far back in the seat as she could and then folding her knees up in front of her. They drive with the radio playing softly, some popular-music station that Sam knows Dean can't usually stand but that seems to put Destiny at ease. Sam saw in the rearview mirror that she relaxed just a fraction when that royals song started playing, so he let it go.

It started raining during the rescue, and it continues steadily now, the windshield wipers of Cas's car sweeping through at regular, rhythmic intervals.

Sam doesn't want to know what all Dean went through during those hours he was tied up. The _days_ , really, in his dream world. It's not his place, and he doesn't want to make Dean re-live it.

But judging by how often Dean keeps looking at Cas, Sam's got an idea anyway.

He doesn't say this. Instead, he takes his eyes off the road to check on his tired-looking brother and clears his throat. "Dean. I'm wondering here, um… You've been in a djinn-caused dream twice before this." Dean nods absently, his gaze flicking back to the rearview mirror for a second. "How did you not figure it out?"

Dean rests his head against the window, aimlessly watching the droplets trickle down outside the glass. "This one was tricky," he admits, obviously irritated at being fooled again. "You were never in danger, and that threw me off."

Sam stops at a light. "Then wh—"

"It was Cas," Dean says, not elaborating any further than that. " _You_ were fine. If it had been both of you, I'm sure I'd've figured it out right off the bat."

When Sam next looks back at the mirror, he sees Cas and Dean have locked eyes again. Something unspoken is passing between them, and Sam sure as hell doesn't want to call attention to it, so he quickly glances away.

There's an uncomfortable silence. Dean finally breaks it by looking back at Destiny. "Hey, how are you? Doing okay there?"

"Me? I'm fine," Destiny says softly. Sam checks on her; she's leaning against the door of the car, her knees still pointed up to the roof of the car. "I just wanna get home," she mumbles, exhausted. "I miss Spencer."

"We'll get you home safe," Sam reassures her.

The next silence is less loaded, but Sam is still a bit impatient to get out of this crowded car with its fraught silences and Dean and Cas's eye thing. If those two will finally get over themselves, it will be amazing and Sam is happy for them both, but the car is just too small right now.

The drive to the Bunker passes without music after they drop Destiny off at her boyfriend's. The guy is overwhelmingly relieved to see her and thanks them all over and over for finding her, and after a while it gets embarrassing, so the three of them wish the happy couple luck and head back home.

Once they _are_ home, however, Sam says nothing when Cas and Dean sit a tad closer than they ever had before. And he doesn't say that he heard a very distinct smack of two pairs of lips separating just before starting down the basement stairs at the house. And he politely turns his head the other way when he thinks he sees Cas reach for his brother's hand beneath the table.

"I'm really glad you're back, Dean," he says instead, taking a long drink of beer. "But promise me one thing next time?"

"Yeah." Dean looks over expectantly.

"If you're gonna take out _two_ things on the same hunt, lemme know?" Sam suggests. "You know. In case your dumbass gets caught again. So we save time searching." Castiel bites his lip to keep from grinning.

Dean nods. "Fair enough." He grabs another piece of pizza and takes a huge bite.

"All right, well, I'm exhausted," Sam announces, and shoves back from the table, stretching. He picks up his plate and empty bottle of beer. "Good night?"

There's a muffled _oooo eyyyyeee_ behind him that's probably Dean talking with his mouth full, so Sam rolls his eyes. "By the way, I know about you and Cas," he says without looking back, and then smirks at the coughing and choking sounds before Cas starts slapping at Dean's back.

"Bitch," Dean coughs when he's able to speak again.

"Aren't we a little old for that, jerk?" Sam volleys back, turning back at the door. He grins. "Night, you two."

"Good night, Sam," Cas says, while Dean gives a sarcastic little twinkle-princess wave of his fingers.

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i know the bitch/jerk thing is suuuuuuuuper outdated at this point but i couldn't help it don't look at me -_-


	17. Chapter 17

_And it's all right if you feel like crying_  
 _but I won't leave you alone_  
 _'Cause nothing in this world worth fighting for_  
 _is easy, I thought you should know_

"So." And that's all Dean can say right now to Cas.

"So," Cas agrees, focusing his attention completely on him.

No other words.

 _Just say it, you wuss._ "Uh, Cas… I'm…" Dean shuts his eyes for several seconds, hoping desperately that when he opens them that his friend will still be there. Opens. Cas is still there, still watching him with concern. "I'm glad you're… I'm glad I'm home," he finally mumbles, shyly.

"I'm glad you are, too, Dean," Cas murmurs. There's a tiny smile on his lips – the same lips Dean was kissing not too long ago. He's a bit hypnotized by the thought and very nearly forgets to continue.

"So, um, yeah… I…" Dean plows forward. "I never, ever want to live any of that over again."

Cas frowns slightly. "What all happened?"

Of _course_ he'd ask. Dean grabs his pizza again and takes a smaller bite than before, chewing thoughtfully. "Well, probably the easiest one was… was you not knowing me and wondering why the hell I called you. The worst…" He swallows and looks up. "I can't decide if the worst was the times where you died, or where we were like, happy together and I woke up and I was held by a dream-djinn." Cas gives him the frown, and Dean clarifies. "I mean, I woke up from a happy dream and I was being held by a djinn _in_ a dream."

"A dream within a dream," Cas frowns. "That's clever."

"Yup," Dean confirms, snatching his beer again. "Plus a bunch of other things. All the same kind of theme." He drinks for a while, then sets the bottle down with a clatter.

"You lost me over and over again," Cas says slowly, realizing.

Dean nods, staring at the label of his beer.

A hand closes over his arm.

Dean looks up and almost loses his breath at the expression on Cas's face. It's so open and …well, _loving_ , that if he were a bystander seeing it on someone else's, he'd be getting the hell out of there because it's frankly more intimate than actually catching them having sex. It reminds him of the expression he'd had at that restaurant when trying to track down Claire, but somehow even more desperate and pleading and caring.

He licks his lips almost involuntarily.

Cas leans closer. "Dean… Is this—is this okay?" he breathes.

"Yeah, Cas, you're—Yeah." Dean watches him close the last few inches between them. He shuts his eyes, and their lips meet.

It's better than before, because Dean is fully coherent now. He can focus completely on the skin of Cas's jawline under his hand, the taste of Cas's lips and their movement against Dean's, the low whimper Cas makes as Dean licks into his mouth, the shudder that zips through Cas when Dean grazes their tongues together.

All too soon, Cas is pulling back. Dean chases his mouth for a moment before giving up and opening his eyes.

"Wow," Cas says simply. He looks astonished, and his eyes have never quite had that certain brightness before now.

Dean grins. "Yeah." He pushes back from the table and gets to his feet, holding one hand out. "Come with me?"

"Always, Dean." Cas stands up too and takes Dean's hand, and they walk out of the room together.

 _And it's alright if you can't stop smiling_  
 _Cause I know just how you feel_  
 _I need you more than you know_

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Notes: song lyrics are from "Worth Fighting For" by Nine Days. Great song 3

Bonus sex chapter on Ao3. Same story title, but my username there is ishippeditovernight. :)


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